Owner's Share (Trader's Tales from the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper) (46 page)

I did find some good news. The internal communications network—the subsystem that routed information to the various consoles and tablets—could be updated relatively easily, although it probably would not be cheap. It would allow us to hang some better consoles in the passenger compartments, and take full advantage of the new consoles the chief had installed on the bridge.

With a sigh and a wince at the dwindling state of my bank account, I set about putting together a replenishment order for the Welliver chandlery. I didn’t take long for me to burn through a lot of credits, but by the time we got underway again, we would be in better shape.

Thinking about getting underway reminded me, and I pulled up the available cargoes list from Welliver. I restricted it to cargoes under nine hundred cubic meters and nine metric kilotons. We were close enough get regular updates from the data beacons. On a whim I adjusted the distance criteria to extend seven burleson units. From Welliver, that meant we could jump to ten of the fourteen systems in the quadrant.

At 0200 I finally realized that it was the mid-watch. Watch-standing could do that. You go on watch, get off watch, go on watch, get off watch, and just keep going. After a while you don’t really notice which one it is, only that you’re there. I went down to the galley and got the cleaning gear.

It felt good to be engaged in the moment, not particularly worried about what was going to happen next, or some task that I needed to do but had forgotten. All I needed to do was focus on sweep, swab, clean, and polish. It appeared that my ratings were keeping up the practice because I didn’t find any accumulated dirt or grime, even in the corners where it builds up.

The beauty of the system really came down to the idea that if somebody forgot, like I almost had, then the next mid-watch would pick up the chain again, and the incremental crud would probably not be noticeable. As long as one person didn’t get stuck doing it all, it worked out well for the ship, and equitably for the watch.

I finished wiping down the armorglass, and stood there for a moment, looking out at Welliver and its orbital. We were coming in at a good clip, and the planet showed as a recognizable orb. Even the orbital itself was taking on a can shape instead of the pinprick of light against the dark.

The gleaming light highlighted that odd patch of hull in front of the bridge again. It almost looked like an oblong of smooth metal set into the rougher texture of the hull plating. It reminded me again of the schematic that Ms. Arellone and I had studied, but I needed to finish stowing the cleaning gear, and by the time I got back up to the bridge, the priority load blinking on my tablet banished all thoughts of odd hull plating.

Seven hundred cubic meters massing fifteen hundred metric tons needed to be on Ten Volt by February 1.

I pulled up the astrogation screen and ran up some numbers. In theory, we could make it to Ten Volt by January 29, with a three-day stay in Welliver. I remembered the last time I’d bid on a priority out of Welliver, and the desperate jump through the Deep Dark to make it on time. I also remembered failing.

After only a few ticks of dithering, I grabbed for it and the load came back claimed. I was right about the longer runs. The one cargo would gross us more than five times the inbound loads we had aboard. I knew from experience that there were not that many ships with the legs to jump from Welliver to Ten Volt. I smiled as my strategy began to take shape.

The chrono clicked over to 0500 so I slaved my tablet to the bridge console, and went down to the galley to start breakfast. While I was there, I linked my tablet to the big screen on the bulkhead, and started pulling out flour and milk and eggs. I had a taste for pancakes, and I happened to know that there were some blueberries in the freezer that would go very nicely.

At 0530, Ms. Arellone joined me in the galley looking relatively chipper for an early morning watch. Of course, she was an experienced watchstander so she knew the drill.

“Good morning, Skipper.” She beamed at me, and then frowned as the coffee ran out before her mug filled up. “Hey! That’s not fair.”

I shrugged. “Sorry about that. I was just getting ready to make a fresh one. You want to flip these and I’ll get the fresh pot started?” I held out the spatula.

She grinned, and took the offered spatula. I got busy working on the coffee. It took only a couple of ticks before water dribbled over freshly ground beans. With that chore finished, I offered to take the spatula back, but she just shook her head at me and asked, “What? No bacon?”

I snickered, rummaged in the cooler, and soon had a dozen rashers cooking on a rack in the oven.

She let me have the spatula back then and made a bee line for the coffee pot just as the ready light came on. She wasted no time pouring a cup, adding a dollop of cream, and sighing in satisfaction after the first sip.

“Nothing like that first cup of the day, is there, sar?”

“It kind of runs together on me, Ms. Arellone. I never know whether any given cup is the first one of the day or just the next one.”

She smiled to humor me but made no move to run up to the bridge.

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye and asked, “So, how are you getting along with Ms. Maloney?”

She glanced back and shrugged. “She’s okay, I guess, sar.”

“You guess?”

“She seems nice enough. Not at all what I expected.”

“What did you expect, Ms. Arellone?”

“Well, sar, how would you feel if you were being forced into slave labor for a stanyer?”

I looked at her with a snort. “Is that how you see working for me, Ms. Arellone? Slave labor?”

She rolled her eyes. “Sar. That’s not what I mean. For people like us, this is just normal. It’s life. It’s what we do.” She paused and sipped, studying me over the top of her mug. “She’s not like us, sar. She’s rich. She doesn’t need this.”

“Actually, I believe she does if she wants her inheritance, Ms. Arellone.”

She didn’t look convinced. “Sar, don’t you think it’s suspicious that she’s being so easy?”

I arched an eyebrow. “Easy, Ms. Arellone?”

“After the first few days, she just rolled over, sar. Whatever we want, she goes along with. She’s even coming up with ideas herself.” She eyed me. “Don’t you find that...I don’t know...suspicious?”

“What? Society woman reduced to the drudgery of shipboard life?”

She shrugged. “Something like that, sar.”

“Has she said anything to you?”

“No, sar! Nothing. Not one whine, complaint, or quibble. We’ve had sandwiches for lunch for the better part of two weeks. Even I’m getting tired of them, but she hasn’t said anything!”

I felt immediately guilty. I was out of practice in my menu planning, and needed to do better. I missed Avery Wyatt. “Sorry about that, Ms. Arellone. What would you like for lunch? Should I make some soup or something?”

She grinned and shook her head. “Actually, I can’t think of anything myself. If I coulda, I probably woulda said something before now.” She frowned. “That’s not the point, sar, and you know it. It’s not natural. Everybody complains. Except her.” She sighed, and buried her nose in her mug again.

I finished off the pancakes, slipped the platter into the warming oven, and turned down the heat on the bacon.

“So, how are you getting along otherwise, Ms. Arellone?”

“I like her.” Her tone was sullen and sulky.

“You like her, Ms. Arellone? You say that like it’s a problem.”

“I just wanna know what she’s up to.” She paused, glancing at me. “And in a stanyer she’ll be gone, and we’ll never see her again.”

I nodded, and refilled my cup from the fresh urn. “Such is the nature of shipmates, Ms. Arellone. They come and go.”

“Yeah, well.” She gave the point grudgingly, but the sulk didn’t leave her face.

“Come on, Ms. Arellone.” I nodded toward the ladder. “Let’s relieve the watch.”

We trotted up to the bridge, and handled the requisite formalities, but Ms. Arellone continued to scowl.

“Has she talked about her background, Ms. Arellone? What it was like for her growing up? What she did before she joined us? Maybe what she’s going to do when she leaves?”

Ms. Arellone shrugged half heartedly. “Not really. She went to a lot of schools—mostly someplace else. Apparently Mummy and Daddy really didn’t want her underfoot.”

“Did she say that?”

“Not in as many words, but I asked her one night where she’d learned to cook. You’ve seen her cook, sar. She knows which side of the burner gets hot.”

“I have, and she does, Ms. Arellone.”

“She said her mother sent her to some cooking school over in Venitz for two years after she finished high school in some swanky private boarding academy in Tellicheri.”

“Interesting. Anything else?”

“She did something that her father must have pulled a string or five for.” She sipped her coffee, frowning. “What did she call it—oh, yeah. She was on the Confederated Planets Joint Committee on Exploration and Development for two stanyers after cooking school.” She looked at me. “I never heard of that before, sar, but with it being part of the Joint Committees, I figure her father must have arranged it for her. I bet it was cushy.”

I blinked at her. “Exploration and Development, Ms. Arellone?”

“Yes, sar. I’m pretty sure that’s what she said.”

“I see. Well, that bet on it being cushy? Don’t make that bet with anybody.”

“Why, sar?”

“The E and D people are the ones who set up new planets for habitation.”

“What do you mean set up new planets, sar?”

“Well, Ms. Arellone, when a new system gets located, the Confederated Planets send out a group of people to look over the place, scope it out for potential exploitation, and begin the terra forming process that lets us humans live there.” I looked at her suddenly not quite sure how much she knew. “You don’t think we humans just found all these planets and systems, do you? That there’s this much real estate out here set up for bipedal, oxygen-breathers?”

She shrugged. “I guess I never thought of it before.”

“E and D go to places that aren’t quite suitable for human life, and start the processes that make it liveable.”

“How do they live there if the worlds aren’t...?” her voice tapered out and her brow furrowed. “That’s got to be very ugly duty, Captain.”

“Yes, Ms. Arellone, it is.”

“Does it pay a lot, sar?”

“As I understand it, Ms. Arellone, a lot of the people are volunteers. They get transportation, room, board, and the princely sum of ten credits a day.”

I thought her eyes would bug out of her head. “Why in the name of all that is holy would anybody do that? Why would
she
do that?”

With a small laugh, I said, “Maybe you should ask her, Ms. Arellone.”

I left her there sitting at the console watching the approaching planet, and trying to get her mind around the difference between what she believed and what she knew.

Chapter Forty
Welliver Orbital:
2373-January-12

We docked at Welliver late in the evening on the eleventh. Messages from cargo control and the chandlery left me worrying that they would both try to get aboard at the same time.

I should not have worried. The stevedores showed up to grab the load around 0800, and were gone by 0900. The chandlery workers showed up with an incongruous load of electronics parts and mattresses. We needed linens and wall hangings, but Ms. Arellone and Ms. Maloney were still debating decor, and I waited to see who would win. In a test of stubbornness between either of them and a rock, I’d bet on the rock to lose.

We used the lift to push all the new stuff up to the first deck. Except for the system comms boards which needed to go into the cabinet in engineering, all the rest of the stuff would be installed on the main deck, and we spent the rest of the day laying down mattresses, putting the boxes of electronics in each compartment, and generally distributing the load.

Near the end of the day, cargo control sent word that our new shipment would load late on the thirteenth, which gave us a bit of time to consider our next moves.

At 1530 I called an impromptu crew meeting in the galley. We were all there anyway, having a sit down after a full day of shuffling heavy and awkward things.

I started with a toast, raising my cup to them. “Thank you, one and all, for your diligence and hard work. I can hardly believe the company is barely two weeks old, and we’ve already hauled our first cargo.”

They made some pleased mumbles, and the chief slapped the table with his open palm.

“What we need to do next—install all the new electronics, buy linens for the bunks, replenish the food stocks, and maybe see about getting some wall hangings. I need to go over to the CPJCT offices in the morning, and see about getting my steward’s endorsement.”

“When are we getting underway again, Skipper?” Ms. Arellone asked.

“I want to be out of here by the fourteenth.”

She nodded. “Got it. That doesn’t leave much time to track down passengers, sar.”

“I know, Ms. Arellone, but it can’t be helped. This shipment is due on Ten Volt by the beginning of the month. Theoretically we’ll be there in plenty of time, but the last time I took a fat priority out of Welliver, I got sandbagged by fate, and we missed the deadline.”